


Fight Me!

by applepieisworthit



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, M/M, bilbo is a long suffering nurse, cute little ficlet, idea from tumblr, thorin is a stupid patient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-05 23:06:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5393612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applepieisworthit/pseuds/applepieisworthit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin is a stupid patient who lands himself in hospital where Bilbo is his nurse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight Me!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thecount](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecount/gifts).



> Happy reading!!

Bilbo has been a nurse at Greater London hospital for going on ten years and he is quite content with the state of his life. His friends are forever insisting he needs to find himself a man to settle down with but Bilbo really doesn’t feel the need to fill his life with someone else’s problems. Someone who could mess up the order in his home and ruin his daily routines. No thank you! Bilbo doesn’t need that nonsense. Plus, working as a nurse full time means he is rarely home anyway.

That all changes with his first patient of January.

Thorin Oakenshield, said the clipboard, admitted by his sister on New Year’s Eve with scattered bruising on his face, lungs and multiple small cuts covering his torso and arms. Bilbo briefly wonders how the fuck that happened and then decides he really doesn’t want to know. The majority of injuries that come in on New Year’s Eve are idiots performing stupid stunts to try to impress people (Bilbo entirely blames Jackass for that). He thinks to himself as he heads towards this Thorin’s room that this guy is probably some twenty-year-old twat that tried to do some motorbike trick.

He rounds the corner into the private room that has obviously been paid for by the sister and his mouth goes dry. The man lying in the bed is certainly not some scrawny twenty-year-old moron with a bruised up face and a sheepish look, instead it is a fit thirty-something-year-old with a bruised up face and a sheepish look. Bilbo clears his throat and re-dons his professional demeanour, striding into the room with a slightly disapproving, slightly amused look on his face; an expression he has perfected over the years as just the right expression to get patients to cooperate.

This Thorin Oakenshield is thankfully asleep at this time and thus doesn’t see Bilbo’s slip, the gorgeous dark haired woman sitting at his side does however and smirks to herself.

Bilbo places the clipboard back at the end of the bed and checks over the equipment surrounding his new patient before he turns to the woman, “You must be Mr. Oakenshield’s wife?” Bilbo stretches out his hand for her to take, a slightly forced polite smile on his face, the brief thought that this man was single and possibly gay dissipating like smoke in the wind. The fact that it had been his sister that brought him in had gotten his hopes up for a second, something that was an alien feeling for Bilbo.

The woman chuckles, takes Bilbo’s hand and shakes it in a firm grip that has him flexing his fingers slightly when she lets go, “I’m his sister, Dís.” Bilbo lets out an accidental sigh of relief that he tries to cover up with clearing his throat but knows he doesn’t succeed as Dís smirks good-naturedly at him.

Bilbo spends the next half an hour discussing Thorin’s medical situation with his younger sister and how long he would realistically have to stay in hospital, something that Bilbo says they won’t be sure about until they have a chance to give him a chest x-ray and look over the results.

Dís leaves with a promise to return the next day with her husband and two sons to visit Thorin again and then Bilbo is left alone with a very attractive, unconscious, slightly moronic man. He leaves the room to complete his rounds, knowing he’d be back later for the test preparations.

 

Thorin wakes to pain radiating throughout his chest and lets out a muffled groan. There is a deep chuckle beside him that Thorin immediately knows comes from his younger brother Frerin so he somehow manages to extract his arms from the mountains on duvet and pillows and stick his middle finger up at where he assumes his brother is.

There is an offended huff from that direction, a noise Frerin has never been known to make, and Thorin swears the needle with the painkillers that is being gently pushed into his arm suddenly becomes more painful.

“I’m the other side of you nitwit!” Frerin is laughing again and this time Thorin swears in the correct direction, there is an exasperated sigh from the nurse currently injecting him that Thorin ignores.

“Nitwit? Who the hell even says that anymore idiot?” Frerin lets out an offended sound and argues right back, something that starts a ‘bicker war’ between the siblings. It only ends when Thorin starts having an intense coughing fit that brings up small flecks of blood in the hand he uses to cover his mouth. The nurse standing beside him helps to rearrange Thorin’s pillows so that he is more comfortable and sitting up, though he is still surrounded by the extra pillows that he is 99% sure were Fíli and Kíli’s idea.

Frerin is later hustled out by the same exasperated (and attractive) nurse who Thorin offended earlier. The man has to threaten to call security in the end to get Thorin’s little brother to leave. Thorin, who has spent the last half an hour complaining loudly and bitterly about the pain he is feeling, is then ‘coaxed’ into sleep by some more strong painkillers and a mild sedative curtesy of the nurse, who introduces himself properly, as Thorin is falling into sleep, as ‘bib’.

When he wakes the next morning it is to the nurse from last night fussing around with the equipment. His heart flutters when the nurse turns and shows just how attractive he is, from the messy curls on the top of his head that he has clearly tried to wrestle into submission, to the little chubby belly. Thorin notices he is still buried in the mountain of pillows that his nephews had buried him in so that only his head is peeking out of the top. Bilbo feels his face softening slightly from his usual neutral expression as he looks down at his patient.

Thorin, glaring slightly at the nurse looking down at him, mumbles a petulant “fight me” from beneath his pillows. Said nurse, ‘Bilbo’ if Thorin remembers correctly (not bib as he’d thought last night), just huffs out a quiet laugh and starts removing the pillows piled up around him.

When Bilbo is done removing the pillows he responds with an amused “maybe later” before leaving Thorin to his thoughts.

The next time Thorin offers to fight his gorgeous nurse is a few days later. He has been having many conversations with Bilbo over the intervening days and every time he finds himself crushing harder and harder on the quiet, witty man. Thorin has been coughing painfully for the last ten minutes and Dwalin, visiting him, presses the ‘help’ button beside the bed.

Bilbo hurries into the room, a worried look passing across his face so fleetingly that Dwalin barely catches it, Thorin is too busy smiling goofily at Bilbo (Dwalin blames the pain meds) to notice. Bilbo checks Thorin over properly to make sure nothing is seriously wrong and nods in satisfaction when he seems to be pleased with the results, Dwalin has no medical knowledge and can only stare at the chicken scratch on Thorin’s board in confusion.

Thorin, voice rough and broken, starts to demand that Bilbo fight him again but stops halfway through to have a coughing fit that ends with his gasping for breath as the nurse helps. Dwalin rolls his eyes at his cousin’s insistence on being an idiot, even injured and supposedly recuperating.

Bilbo’s eyes sparkle with amusement as he responds, “I don’t think I’ll fight you Thorin, we all know you’d win.” Bilbo winks at Dwalin as he leaves, who chuckles quietly to himself until he turns to see Thorin’s pink face and awkward, sappy smile and bursts into full blown howls of laughter.

 

Bilbo has been contemplating Thorin for the past two days and how quickly and easily he seems to have fallen for the bumbling idiot of a gorgeous man. Thorin has finally gotten well enough to go home and he leaves in a few hours and Bilbo finds his heart sinking at the prospect of losing his daily source of entertainment (and eye candy).

It’s when he's in the cafeteria getting himself lunch that the idea comes to him so he buys himself a hot cup of coffee and heads upstairs to Thorin’s room.

Thorin, whilst feeling happy at the prospect of finally leaving hospital, is sad that he will no longer get to see his wonderful nurse. Just as he is about to leave his hospital room, dejected about not getting to see Bilbo one more time before he leaves, said nurse arrives before him slightly out of breath, clutching a coffee cup in his left hand.

Bilbo shoves the coffee into Thorin’s hand and hurries away, his cheeks flaming. Thorin frowns down at the cup, annoyance rushing through his body, how dare Bilbo not even bother to say goodbye? A lukewarm cup of coffee? That was it!? Just as Thorin is about to throw the cup away, however, he notices that there is writing on the other side. He turns the cup around and written on it are the words “fight me?” under what is presumably Bilbo’s mobile number.

Thorin feels the goofy grin spreading across his face but does nothing to stop it as he whips out his phone to save the number and text Bilbo straight away.

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this from a tumblr post I saw a while ago, which said this: My nurse just came in to check my vitals and I told him to fight me from beneath a mountain pillows. He just moved my pillows and told me maybe later. he just came in again and when I tried to tell him to fight me again I started coughing and I couldn’t breathe and then then he just smiled and told he won’t fight me because he knows I’d win. Apparently I seduced him with my drool and terrible lungs because he wrote his number on a coffee from the gift shop under “fight me?”


End file.
